Sold on Auctioneering / Three generations of a Martinez family encouragecrowds to do their bidding

It runs in the family. His father has a natural gift for sensing who has big bucks. And with just a glance, his son can spot the highrollers in a crowded room.

Meet the Pereiras, three generations of Martinez auctioneers who raise more than $1 million a year for Bay Area charities.

John, 53, is the showman. The auction belongs to him as he storms up and down a room belting out rapid-fire bids into a cordless microphone.

With the fire of a Pentecostal preacher, he worked up a sweat in his crisp tuxedo at a recent gig at the Santa Clara Convention Center in San Jose. The event: a fund-raiser to support the Safari Club's conservation efforts. The item: a hand-painted mountain lion sculpture. The asking price: $325.

"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen, let's start it off easy -- who will give me $200?" he prompted the crowd.

More than 500 people, ladies in glittery evening gowns and men in jackets and ties, were just finishing cheesecake swirled with raspberry puree at tables of 10. They were only halfheartedly paying attention. So John kicked it into high gear.

He stepped down off the makeshift platform and waded through the tables. "$200, OK, now two and a quarter, now $250. Yes! Yes! Now $300. Who will give me $300? Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He cocked his fingers like a gun, pointing at bidders as they shot their hands up in the air.

In one corner, there was a flurry of commotion as people shouted out bids. But then as quick as a hockey puck on ice, the action switched to another corner.

John stepped up the pace, building the momentum. "Now $325. Now $350. Yes!" he punched his fist into the air, victorious.

His son Sean, 24, marched shoulder to shoulder with him, scanning the crowd for bids.

Father and son shouted "Yes!" in unison as two men at a front table launched into a bidding war.

"Now this auction is getting going," John boomed into the mike.

John's 75-year-old father Frank, who resembles actor George C. Scott, took his post at a table where two friends were locked into a volley of bids. When Frank visits a table, it means someone has been anointed as a player.

At this point, the auction had less to do with the sculpture, or the Safari Club. It was about adrenaline. It was about winning. It was about the rush of showing your buddy who's boss.

"$450. Going once, going twice . . ." John yelled as all eyes were glued to the front table. "Sold! To the gentleman."

"I got it!" said Jimmy Johnson of Menlo Park, as the self-described "raffle girls" -- women who deliver the winning goods and paperwork to the highest bidder -- brought over the mountain lion sculpture.

"I was bidding against my friend," Johnson said. "He's also my attorney, so I was having some fun."

Attorney Mike Davidson of Belmont bid $400. Fifty bucks more and he might have outbid Johnson for the sculpture. "Four hundred dollars? Is that what I bid?" Davidson asked. "I guess I lost track. I was having a good time bidding against my friend, but at the same time, -- as it was getting higher -- I was thinking 'what in the hell is he doing?' "

That's the point. Get the crowd worked up and they'll spend their money. It's the Pereira family M.O.

John Pereira, whose family settled in Martinez in the early 1800s, is a real estate broker and cattle rancher.

He worked his first auction in 1980. Since then, he's traveled to Europe, Canada and all over the States auctioning off commercial real estate.

But his real love is raising money for charities -- AIDS support centers, Bay Area cultural and educational organizations and conservation groups.

Sometimes he volunteers or he makes a flat fee. It's not enough money, though, he said, to give up his day job. It's more a labor of love, a way to spend time with his father and son, while helping his community.

SPOTTING THE SPENDERS

John started out as a "spotter" -- auction lingo for someone who helps the auctioneer locate bids. It's a tough job, one that requires concentration, sharp eyesight and the stamina to prowl a room for up to four hours straight. It's the job his son Sean does now.

"Because I used to be a spotter, I feel comfortable going down into the crowd," John said. "When I get down on the floor, I can build the momentum. We have gotten the energy so high at times that I've seen people literally crying at bids."

That's what the Pereiras are famous for -- an interactive performance, one that often whips the audience into a frenzy. And they love it. The proof is in the empty wallets.

He bought an autographed football stamped with signatures of Hall of Fame players like Joe Namath for a couple of grand, an original oil painting of a bull by artist Eric Forlee for $1,300 and a couple of wildlife safari trips to Africa and Australia.

Goldschlager has been to dozens of auctions, and is known as an "up," someone who raises the stakes at an auction and is there to drop some serious cash.

"It's the thrill of the hunt," he said. "It's like gambling in a sense. When you are bidding on something you really want, your heart is pounding."

Frank Pereira, the elder statesman of the trio, spent a portion of the evening staked out by Goldschlager's table.

A former Contra Costa under- sheriff, Frank, with his white combed back hair, gray wool sport jacket and silver-tipped, cowboy- boot bolo tie, has a quiet regalness about him.

He stands next to the heavy hitters like Goldschlager to support them and communicate their bids if necessary.

"You get a feel for who is spending," Frank said. "There's this one lady who goes to auctions with her husband and if she says she's going home with an item, it's all over. I just go over to her table and wait."

Just before she wins the bid, her husband routinely stands up and clutches his chest like he's having a heart attack, Frank said. "I've seen items that were going for $200 and she'll pay $2,000," he said. "She does it because the money goes to a good cause and it's fun."

Sean Pereira said he tries to get as wild as possible so bidders like the woman who gives her husband a mock heart attack continue to have a good time -- and spend money.

A head taller than his father and grandfather, Seanwas hoarse from yelling at the Safari Club auction.

LEARNING TO YELL

"There's not many people who yell as much as we do," his father John said. "After a few hours it takes a toll on your voice. But Sean will learn to yell from his diaphragm and not his throat."

Sean works as a salesman for Dryers Ice Cream in Union City. He is getting married in May and is planning a honeymoon in Hawaii.

"I do the auctions because I have a great time with my dad and my grandfather," Sean said. "We know how to work off each other without even saying anything."

The Pereiras do seem able to read each other's mind. When the three of them work together, they are in concert -- in constant motion, yelling and working the crowd.

"It's great to have three generations up there," said Goldschlager, the big-time bidder. "It's a link to the past. And a link to the future."